Jodi Thomas (14 page)

Carter didn’t answer.

Riley watched Carter carefully. “I talked to Miss Lacy before I left town. She said you can stay at her place tonight. The train leaves at dawn. With luck, you’ll be sitting in the Childress sheriff’s office by noon.”

Carter covered Bailee’s hand with his own. “We’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

Bailee opened her mouth to say that there was no need for her to go along. Then the realization that she’d be left alone registered. “I can be ready in ten.” She hurried toward her bedroom.

Ten minutes later she stepped from the house with her small carpetbag in one hand and a basket of eggs and peaches in the other. She’d not go to Lacy’s home for the first time without a gift, and the eggs and peaches were all she could think of to take.

Carter followed her out a moment later, locking the door behind him. He carried nothing but a book in one hand. He laid the book in the wagon and helped Bailee onto the bench seat while the sheriff rode out ahead of them on his horse.

She locked her arm around his and slipped her fingers into his hand. There was no need to say more.

I
T WAS ALMOST MIDNIGHT BY THE TIME THEY STORED the wagon and horses at Mosely’s livery. Sheriff Riley waved good-bye, saying he’d meet them at the station at dawn. Carter carried Bailee’s bag as they walked the block to Lacy’s apartment above the print shop. She welcomed them at the door with a wild round of hugs and led them up a small staircase in the back of the shop.

Despite her exhaustion, Bailee couldn’t help but laugh at Carter’s expression. He stared at Lacy with a mixture of confusion and panic. If Lacy had tried to hug him again, Bailee wouldn’t have been surprised to see Carter bolt for the door.

He hadn’t said a word to Bailee since he’d agreed to go. She knew he wasn’t happy about leaving his ranch, yet he came. He was a man out of his element, trying hard not to show it.

Lacy’s chatter was a welcome relief from the silence for Bailee, but she guessed Carter found it bothersome. The girl rattled on about how she loved learning in the print shop and how wonderful her father-in-law was to her. The old man couldn’t do much, including climb the stairs to help her get settled, but he was kind, always respecting her as if she were a lady, treating her like he’d found a treasure, not some murderer he had paid to get out of jail. He even set up a household allowance at the store.

To Bailee’s surprise, Lacy’s apartment was cozy, with a small living area in the front overlooking the street and a bedroom in the back. The furnishings were old and worn, but good quality. There was even a small dining table with one chair next to it. The matching chair hung on a nail on the wall.

“I put the other chair up there so I’d look at it when I ate and remember that I would take it down the day my husband comes home. Then I’ll no longer eat alone.”

“Don’t you take meals with your father-in-law?” Bailee sat her basket on the table.

“At lunch we eat at the café, mostly. He takes breakfast and dinner at his boardinghouse. He said he’d pay for me to eat there, but I wanted to be on my own. I figure my Frank is probably sitting by himself somewhere eating his meals. I feel somehow closer to him knowing I’m doing the same.”

She pulled a lean stack of mail from a box on the table. “I have all the letters he’s written his father. He’s a fine man, I can tell by the way he writes. He talks about doing the right thing and loving his country.”

Bailee smiled. In truth, Lacy probably knew more about her man than Bailee knew about Carter. “Is there any word about when he’ll be home?”

Lacy shook her head. “A year, maybe more. I’ll wait. I’ve never had anyone to wait for before. I tell myself he’s just a man, nothing more, so I won’t expect too much. But if he wants me, I’ll love him. My father-in-law says his Frank ain’t fool enough to not want an angel like me. Imagine that, he thinks I’m an angel.”

Bailee thought of Lacy’s words an hour later when she lay in the darkness of the tiny apartment bedroom. She had almost the same thought when it occurred to her that Carter might be able to go back on the marriage if Zeb Whitaker were alive. That is, if he truly was alive. If he was, Carter might not have to reconsider the marriage. Zeb might make him a widower.

Lacy had insisted they take her bedroom. She had no way of knowing Carter slept in the room’s one chair, his legs blocking the door.

Bailee knew he wasn’t comfortable, but as always, he didn’t share his thoughts. In fact, she wasn’t even sure he was asleep.

If he wants me, I’ll love him.
She almost said the words aloud. Was she so desperate that she’d give her heart to a man, any man who would just want her? For three years she pretended Francis Tarleton wanted her. Everyone asked about him, talked about what her wedding would be like when she joined him out West. But the time never came, and eventually folks stopped asking. Like water on a stove, her dreams evaporated in mist, leaving her unwanted, unloved, and untouched.

Bailee rolled over so she could see Carter’s outline. “Are you awake?” she whispered.

He leaned forward far too quickly to have been asleep.

“No,” he answered.

“If you want, you could lay on top of the covers on the other side of the bed. That chair couldn’t be comfortable.”

Carter was silent for a moment, then she watched his shadow move. He propped the chair across the door and leaned his rifle against the nightstand. The room was too dark to see more than an outline, but she heard him remove his shirt, boots, and trousers. Carefully he lowered his weight to the other side of the bed, mindful not to touch her.

She waited, but she wasn’t sure for what.

“Are you cold?” she whispered.

“No,” he answered without moving.

“Good, but if you get cold, I don’t mind you having one of the blankets. I’m never cold.” She was rattling again.

“Can you sleep?” she asked more to hear his voice than anything else.

“No,” he answered again. “It’s too light in here.”

Bailee thought about what he said. She could only see the outline of her hand in front of her face. Wherever he slept on the ranch, the place must be very dark.

He must have guessed what she was doing, for he closed his fingers around hers and lowered her hand to rest between them. “Go to sleep ... Bailee.”

His low voice whispered through the night, and she couldn’t help but like the way her name sounded when he said it.

Closing her eyes, she tried to lie still. After what seemed like hours, she finally fell asleep listening to Carter’s steady breathing and feeling the warmth of his hand resting atop hers.

 

Bailee slept on Carter’s shoulder through most of the train ride the next morning. The people shifting like sand along the aisle didn’t bother her. Carter watched every person who passed as though he expected them to pull a gun and start firing.

Sheriff Riley sat a few rows away talking with a widow lady and her old maid daughter. He didn’t seem to be flirting, just passing the time.

When they reached the tiny town at Childress’s county seat, Bailee was disappointed. If possible, it was dustier and shabbier than Cedar Point. There were people on either side of the platform with wares spread out on filthy blankets. One man had a pot of soup swinging over a low fire. “Stew!” he yelled to everyone getting off the train. “Fresh venison stew!”

Several people bought, others had to wait until bowls were returned to be reused on the next customer without washing. Bailee noticed that any of the soup not finished by a previous customer was scraped back into the pot to be reheated and reserved.

Carter looked as if he were lost in a nightmare. He couldn’t watch all the people, but he tried. He might bolt and run at any moment. She wished they had arrived at dawn, or after dark, when the streets wouldn’t have been so crowded.

Bailee slipped her arm in his. “Please, stay close,” she whispered. “This many people make me nervous.”

He stared down at her as if she’d read his mind. His hand closed around hers in a tight grip. A smile brushed the comer of his mouth as he nodded slightly.

She couldn’t resist leaning closer and kissing his cheek.

The sheriff coughed loudly. Bailee straightened, not the least embarrassed.

Sheriff Riley led them through the crowd and down two blocks of what must be Main Street. He rattled on that he remembered when this place was nothing more than a watering stop for cattle. Bailee decided it had gone downhill since then.

At least the sheriff’s office was clean. After one look at Sheriff Parker Smith, Bailee decided Riley had a twin. Oh, there were subtle differences: Most of Smith’s hair had slipped off his head onto his throat, and Riley wore a few more wrinkles across his lean, weathered face. But the two men’s life stories were painted in their features, and they came from the same palette.

Parker Smith, however, proved to be more direct than Riley. He wasted no time with small talk. After shaking Carter’s hand and nodding at Bailee, he led them to the back cell of an empty jail. He made a point to say that he wasn’t locking anyone up, but only providing quarters for a minor in need.

All the cells were as clean as his office, but the smell of vomit filtered through the air like rotten perfume. For a few moments Bailee didn’t see the child curled up in a pile of blankets inside the last cell.

“Honey!” Smith shouted as he opened the cell. “Honey! I got someone who wants to talk to you.”

The girl didn’t raise her head.

“If she’s deaf, Parker, she won’t hear any better with you shouting, but you might manage to damage my hearing.” Riley screwed a finger into his ear.

“She don’t respond at all unless someone touches her. Then she starts crying. I tried to get some of the good ladies to take her in last night, but you’d have thought her condition was catching. They all have their hands full with normal kids; none of them wanted to be responsible for a dummy.”

Bailee glanced at Carter, but he held himself in tight control. In truth, he didn’t act like he heard the sheriff as he stared into the cell. His blue eyes watched the little girl carefully as if he were trying to figure out what to do.

Smith turned toward Carter. “You think you can get through to her, mister? We tried a pencil and paper, but she wouldn’t touch it. My guess is she’s too young to read or write. But we were hoping she could pen her name. At least that would be some help. I can’t notify her people until I know who she is.”

Carter removed his coat and lay it between two bars, then without a word he stepped into the unlocked cell.

He made no effort to touch the child, but knelt in front of her, slowly forcing his way into her line of vision.

She raised her head slightly as he gestured to her with his hands, signing as though he were speaking low to a frightened creature. His movements were slow, unsure.

After a few minutes the blankets slipped away. She scrubbed a tear from her cheek and nodded. She lifted her head high, a brave little soldier in a frightening world.

Bailee felt as if she watched a miracle. This man she married, who never had more than a few words to say, talked to a child in a way only the two of them understood. Bailee couldn’t understand the symbols, but she sensed the meaning passing through his fingers. He was telling her that she would be all right. He was telling her not to be afraid. He was telling her he understood her.

As time passed they all watched the child talk to Carter. He listened and answered, his hands moving faster as he became more comfortable with the language.

Suddenly the girl jumped from the cot into his arms. Her arms wrapped around his neck and held on tight as though she were drowning and he were her only hope.

He stood, holding her against him, protecting her from the world, at least for a while.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Riley mumbled, then with a quick glance to Bailee added, “Pardon me, ma’am.”

Carter rocked the child as he walked. When Bailee saw her face, tears streamed down reddened cheeks. She cried, silently on Carter’s broad shoulder. Finally she had found someone to hear her.

After a while Carter motioned for Bailee to come closer and have a seat on the cot. He pried the child from about his neck and sat her in Bailee’s lap. She struggled to return to Carter, but his hands moved quickly, telling her it was all right.

The little girl nodded and looked up at Bailee with a shy smile. She ran her thumb along her tear-stained cheek.

“What does she say?” Bailee asked without taking her gaze from the girl.

“She says you’re pretty,” Carter answered.

When Bailee glanced at him, he smiled. His blue eyes caught her stare and held it for a moment. Then he returned to the girl.

The bookend sheriffs watched from several feet away while the man who never had three words to say to anyone communicated endlessly with a silent child.

When the girl leaned against Bailee and closed her eyes, the discussion was finally over. Bailee rocked her gently as Carter stood and moved to Smith.

The child must be about five or six, Bailee thought. Her grandmother would have called her Daddy-carrying size. So big, mother would have made her walk, but still small enough for a father to lift easily.

“She was asleep when the train derailed.” Carter leaned back against the bars and folded his arms, determined to say what had to be said. “She remembers seeing her mother lying on the floor of the car. She said her mother’s eyes were open wide and blood dripped from her mouth. She tried to get her mother to sit up when smoke began to fill the compartment. But her mother signed ‘run’ before she went to sleep with her eyes still wide.”

Bailee held the child closer, as if she could guard against the memory.

Carter placed his hand on Bailee’s shoulder as he continued. “She told me she grabbed her little bag, because her mother told her to always keep it close. She ran as far away from the fire as she could. Then she sat down next to her bag and waited for her mother to join her.”